


What I Need to Set Me Free

by LouiseC



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 21:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouiseC/pseuds/LouiseC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A WWII AU. While the world is at war around them, two men brought together by circumstances fight a battle of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parts 1-3

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the challenge at h50_harlequin. 
> 
>  
> 
> This story grew beyond my control when I went to Hawaii in September and visited Pearl Harbor. It is a special place and it also made me realise how woefully ignorant I was of WWII in the Pacific Theatre, despite living in the Pacific myself. Thus, this became a WWII story which grew entirely out of an interesting study into conditions for civilians on Oahu in WWII. Many little snippets in the story come from this. Whilst I did do research into things mentioned in the story, there are sure to be some historical liberties which true historians will notice. I apologise for these and hope that the story makes up for antyhing that has slipped through.  
> I can not thank kapuahi enough for the hand holding and butt kicking as I posted snippet after snippet, often not in order, finding mistakes and also tolerating countless "OMG this factoid is perfect for my story" moments. I also want to thank lyndalanz for her constant encouragement of me and eagerness to read more.

Former Detective Danny Williams is not a man who likes to give in. What others see as dedication and resilience is for the most part a stubborn unwillingness to give in to forces outside his control. A less stubborn man would probably have packed it in months ago and retreated to the comparative safety of the mountains. The threat of another attack lingers over the islands and the growing unrest amongst different nationalities has begun to make people suspicious of those they once considered friends. Danny doesn’t like to think of himself as paranoid, but these days, vigilance is not only encouraged but necessary. 

As it is, he can't help but let his eyes scan the waterline by the house, seeking out any untoward ripples which might betray the presence of a small enemy submarine. He'd hated Hawaii enough to begin with, but ever since that fateful day, he's felt a need to contribute what he can. Because as much as he hated Hawaii before, he hates what is happening around him so much more.

It was the stubborn thing again.

Which is how a man in his thirties, born and raised in New Jersey (the proud third state of this great union thank you very much) came to find himself following his ex-wife and daughter to a territory in the middle of the Pacific Ocean when her new husband decided to buy into the booming pineapple business. Danny hadn't even bothered to hide his satisfaction when, despite being deemed a 'critical industry', half of Stanley's crop had been ripped up and turned into an airfield. There was rumour that the strategic position outweighed the value of the fruit. However, since the man put in his time, floating around in an oversized tugboat until his lungs were damaged by a chemical accident, Danny finds himself begrudging Stan Edwards less as time goes on. 

He finds himself begrudging lots of other things about Hawaii less as time goes on and appreciating things which he never would have expected. Any supplies from the mainland of America are rare, but the exchange of goods with grateful soldiers and sailors provides him with candy for Grace. A chocolate bar is worth more than pocket money to an eight year old these days. At least this volcano-ridden rock has one big thing going for it. Fresh fruit is plentiful and families can grow food in their gardens year round. Rare letters from home speak of the harsh winters and families doing without luxuries in these times when everything is prioritised to the war effort.

Even housing becomes a commodity, which is how Danny finds himself living in a bungalow on a sprawling property, complete with private beach. It’s a beautiful house with grounds to make any child’s imagination run rampant and at any other time in his life Danny would never find himself somewhere like it. The only reason he is here now is that it's owned by a military family. The temporary legacy of three generations of Navy men and the wives of the two older men is that the house is being used as an infirmary of sorts for recovering sailors. 

The eldest of the McGarrett men was killed on the day which started this whole mess. Steven McGarrett went down with the Arizona. At 65, he had been a lifer only months short of retirement and was delivering a message for the ship's captain when the attack occurred. 

His son, John, a detective with the Honolulu Police Department, was drafted in the first batch after the bombings and is currently stationed in England. Word around the department was that if he hadn't been drafted he would have signed up anyway. 

The youngest man of the family, Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett (the Second, Danny supposes) graduated from the Naval Academy some five years ago and is currently serving with an underwater demolition team somewhere classified. Danny has a good enough working knowledge of the military to know that being a Lt. Commander at 26 is an incredible accomplishment. It’s another sign of the changes the war has brought. Young men have chances to excel long before their time or those higher up are killed and promotions come quickly to those below them. Danny knows that nobody has heard from Commander McGarrett for months but he supposes that isn't surprising considered the crucial and secretive nature of his work.

 

With the men away, Gertrude and Doris McGarrett and the youngest female McGarrett, Mary, volunteered for Nurse training and are currently serving aboard a hospital ship. Before his deployment to Europe, John McGarrett signed over custodianship of his house to be used as accommodation to facilitate the physical recovery of servicemen. 

Danny's familiar with the frustration that comes with being unable to rely on his body like he used to be able to, his knee injury made him unable to join the war effort by serving. So when HPD came under martial law and the presence of the Army technically made him unneeded in the department, Danny took a leave of sorts and volunteered his time to help the servicemen through their recovery. He's still technically with the HPD and over the last few months has busted a few local teens for having lit cigarettes down near the shore, but overall he'd rather be where he's really needed. 

He took some training in physiotherapy through the volunteer program which allows him to administer doctor guided programs to patients. He also helps with the daily running of the house as well as serving as an unofficial therapist for anyone who wants an ear to bend. The patients can see his understanding both on his face and with every uneven step he takes. It's exhausting work, especially on the days when his knee is at its worst, but he's far better off than many of the men he's seen come through. Some will never walk again and others will carry scars, inside and out, for the rest of their lives. 

Danny has seen that it's sometimes the men who look fine physically who surprise you. Like the unidentified sailor currently lying in the small upstairs bedroom. Physically there is nothing discernibly wrong with him. He washed ashore, unconscious and with no identification. Nobody knows where he came from, and once it had been ascertained that he was physically fine, he was released from Tripler into a custody of sorts. Since nobody knows who he is, nobody knows he isn't a spy for the enemy so Danny, with his law enforcement training and status with the HPD allowing him to carry a gun, has been tasked with ensuring the man doesn't escape before interrogation.

If he ever wakes up that is.

Danny sighs and turns back to the house, the sun is setting and he'd better get back inside and ready the house for blackout conditions for another night.

* * * 

Danny closes the last of the heavy blackout curtains with a sigh and leans against the wall to rub his knee. Three soldiers shipped out today and their place was taken by three more so he's been up and down the stairs with laundry more times than usual. He knows he's going to need to take it easier tomorrow. At least Grace is coming for the day, the only thing which always eases whatever burden he's feeling.

Danny checks the curtains over the French doors one last time before heading back to the staircase. He needs to do one last thing before he can sit and rest his knee and eat the supper which the volunteer cook, a native-born man named Kamekona, always saves for him. When there was an opening at the McGarrett home, he jumped at the chance to serve the house of his old friends. Kamekona by rights is a successful businessman but despite his ruthless entrepreneurial streak, he wanted to serve the islands he loves with his other 'talent'. Danny isn’t sure that cooking truly terrible food for unsuspecting victims should really be called a talent, but he means well and the sailors joke that it is toughening their stomachs up to return to mess food. 

With such culinary delights awaiting him, Danny doesn't hurry through the last PT duty of the day. He moves into the mystery man's room and closes the door quietly behind him. He looks for a moment at the figure on the bed. He's tall, hard to be precise while he's lying out flat but definitely taller than Danny. By half a foot he'd guess. He looks strong and is very well muscled which is part of the reason Danny added the second therapy session for the day to the man's schedule. He wants him to maintain his condition as much as possible for when he wakes. If he is an ally that is. If he's an enemy, Danny supposes his hard work will contribute to the man ably digging ditches or filling sandbags.

Danny peels back the sheet and arranges the man's hospital gown so his arms and legs are mobile. He swiftly checks the various bags attached to the man, relieved that nothing needs emptying just yet, and lifts his hand. Mindful of the IV keeping the man hydrated, Danny lifts the muscled arm above the man's head and bends his elbow. He watches the skin tighten and the edges of his bicep tattoos emerge from under the gown. Danny has been curious about the tattoos since the first time he saw them, the work is intricate and beautiful and sometimes he catches himself staring, blushing and glad that there's nobody conscious to see him.

That was two days ago and since then he has found himself thinking about the unconscious mystery man more than he usually thinks about patients. He wants to think it's because of the uncertainty surrounding him, nobody knows his story or what happened to him. But if he's totally honest with himself, Danny knows he feels drawn to the air of sadness surrounding the man. He can't explain it but he just knows that the man has a sad heart. He thinks Grace felt it too, last weekend when she came to the house and read to the man while Danny worked his arm muscles. She'd been shooed out for the lower body workout, certain parts of that still make Danny a little flustered, usually his patients are not still reliant on catheter bags and are always wearing shorts. 

Danny finds himself lost in thought, again constructing a background for the man like he would the victim of a crime. He hears a sound behind him and drops the man's arm, his hand landing above his head. Danny turns swiftly, wincing when his knee protests, and looks at the foot of the bed. The man's knee is drawn up, his foot flat on the bed of its own accord. Danny smiles, hoping that this means the man will come around tonight and they will finally know who he is. He reaches out to touch the man's thigh.

Next thing he realises, the man is on his feet on the other side of the bed with a gun in his hands. Danny's training and reflexes take over and he whisks his own weapon from the holster in the small of his back. 

"Who the hell are you?" the man asks loudly. "And what are you doing in my father's house?" 

* * * 

"My name is Detective Danny Williams," Danny says calmly, his weapon still trained on the stranger. "I'm with the Honolulu Police Department but I volunteer here on account of having a monumentally screwed up knee. Who are you?"

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. Put your gun down and show me your I.D.," he demands.

"Okay, hold on," Danny doesn’t lower his gun but reaches slowly into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, the seven point star of his ID clear to the man across the bed.

The stranger lowers his weapon, engaging the safety and placing it in the middle of the bed. He raises an eyebrow when Danny doesn't do the same. "Sorry, but I don't exactly have pockets right now," he quips. "Or pants."

"Yes, I can see that," Danny keeps steady despite his throbbing knee, "But I have no way of knowing you are who you say you are until I confirm with the Navy so you'll have to forgive me." 

"I don't sound American to you?"

"Accents can be faked," Danny shrugs. "Pretty easily. My ex-wife is English and my daughter flits between the two easy as... Whatever, that isn't important. What is important is me getting word to the base that you're awake."

"How are you going to do that without leaving me unattended?" the man challenges. "I might climb out the window when you aren't looking."

"Easy," Danny grins. "You might want to cover your ears."

"What?"

"Kamekona," he shouts as loud as he can. "The mystery man is awake. And he's got a gun."

Danny hears a clattering downstairs, he assumes Kamekona's literally dropped whatever he was doing. He's fast for his size and a former sumo wrestler so Danny knows that the stranger is outmanned should he turn out to be a shifty one. Danny estimates about thirty seconds for the cook to get the gun, which he's pretending he doesn't know about on account of the martial law, from the locked box under the yeast in the pantry and make it up the stairs. 

"Come to think of it, where did you get a gun?" Danny asks.

"Wedged in the bedhead, where I left it when I was here six months ago," the man, Steve, Danny supposes he could in fact be, says. "How else would I know it was there when I've been unconscious for..." he hesitates.

"You were found four days ago. You’ve been here for two," Danny supplies. 

"Really? Damnit, my unit is meant to be..."

"Meant to be?"

"It's classified. Look, I really don't have time for you to stand around playing Sheriff, just let me get dressed and I'll be on my way."

"Look," Danny reasons. "You're a soldier, right?"

"Sailor."

"Whatever. You really think it is a good idea for me to let you go when I don't know who you are. There's a war on, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed, believe me."

"Then, imagine for a minute that I am you and you are me and you have me and you don't know who I am. Do you let me go when I could be anyone?"

Steve frowns. "I have no idea what you just said. And I used to work intelligence. Seriously? Was that even English?"

"Stevie!" 

"Kamekona, my brother it's been too long!" Steve looks away from Danny and grins widely in the direction of the door. 

"Kamekona?" Danny asks.

"You can put your gun away, Jersey. He's da kine." Kamekona rounds the bed and slaps the man jovially on the back. "This is Steve McGarrett, John's son."

"Of all the gin joints..." Danny mumbles as he puts the safety on and reholsters his gun.

"What?" Steve frowns.

"Casablanca? Passable performance in the box office so far, critics are divided... and thanks to the blank look on your face I'm remembering that they're not showing it to you Army guys yet because they're scared you'll revolt or something."

"It's the Navy," Steve growls. "And I know what you're talking about." He picks at the tape on the back of his hand and carefully pulls out the IV needle. 

Danny winces. He fucking hates needles. "Well good then. I guess you're good to go then as soon as the Doc gets back from Tripler and she can check you over and deal with..." Danny gestures at the catheter still attached to Steve and hitching the front of his gown up to almost indecency. "... that."

"Don't worry about it," Steve frowns and looks around the room. 

"She won't be long," Danny assures him. "You won't be tethered to the bed for much... oh, hey, hey what are you doing?"

Steve's lifting the flowers out of the vase by the window, about as far as the tubing will allow him to go, and tipping the water out the window. He brings the vase back to the bedside. He places it on the floor and unhooks the bag of his urine from the makeshift fixings on the bed. 

"Don't even think about it," Danny warns. 

"I'm outta here," Kamekona winces and backs out of the room. "Come down when you're ready for food."

"I think I've lost my appetite," Danny swallows.

Steve mutters as he empties the bag into the vase, "Both of you, shut up."

When the liquid is finished draining, Steve stands up and takes hold of the bottom of his gown. "You're either helping me or getting out, Detective. What's it gonna be."

"You're insane."

"So, not helping then."

"This is so beyond my job description," Danny grumbles. "Just wait for me to get a syringe and some towels, okay? I don't want you fucking around down there and breaking something. I don't want to be stuck tending to your junk because you're too damned impatient to wait half an hour for a doctor."

"You don't want to tend to my junk?" 

"I want to tend my resignation," Danny shoots back from the doorway.

When he returns with the necessary supplies, he lays the towels out on the bed and hands Steve the syringe. "I'm not qualified to do this. I can't stop you but I'm not doing it."

"No problem. Not my first time at this particular rodeo," Steve takes the syringe and settles himself on the bed. He deftly attaches it, draws out the saline from... Danny doesn't want to think about where, he's had one of those contraptions before and it isn't something he wants to repeat. The sailor's movements are swift and focused and Danny's kind of in awe about how detached the man can be. Even when he finally draws the tube out of himself, he just tightens his jaw and locks eyes with the short, fiery blond man standing in front of him. 

"That's it, almost done," Danny finds himself encouraging, distracting and anchoring the other man. "You're fucking insane, you know that? I'm gonna tell them you need to see a shrink or something because let me tell you, nobody in their right mind would do this when a perfectly good..." he stops when Steve is done and holds the rubbish bin up for the other man to drop everything into. Steve stands and turns his back, wiping away a few stray drops before he moves to drop the towels in the bin too.

"Not so fast, McGarrett," Danny stops him "Those get washed. By yours truly I might add, so thank you for adding extra to my workload in the morning."

"You're welcome." He places the barely used towel on the end of the bed. Danny has to admit he did a very professional job. These UDT guys are creepily skilled.

"So what now, Navy boy?"

"Now, we eat." Steve grins as he stands up and walks out of the room. For the first time, Danny sees the man's back and he gets an eyeful as the gown flaps loosely around Steve's buttocks. 

"You're not sitting half naked on the dining room chairs."

"They're my chairs," Steve yells back up the hallway. 

"Not until Japan surrenders they're not. I'm going to the attic to find you some clothes."

 

* * * 

"I'm glad you agreed to wait for the Doc before running off to the jungle," Danny pulls in his chair and watches Steve for any signs of discomfort after his earlier... procedure.

"Yeah, well I'm not an idiot. I need him to sign me out or I'm technically AWOL."

"She."

"Huh?"

"The doctor is a she. Dr Malia Waincroft."

"Women doctors in the Navy?" Steve raises that eyebrow again and Danny kind of wants to slap it and kind of wants to run his thumb over it at the same time.

"Well, she's Major Waincroft, Army. But I don't know, maybe the Navy does too. You got a problem with a woman doctor, McGarrett?" Danny challenges. Dr Waincroft is an excellent physician and in Danny's book, anyone who thinks otherwise is not okay.

"Definitely not," Steve assures him. "It's just sad that it took a war to get them to allow it, that's all."

"Yeah."

"Here we go, my haole brothers," Kamekona sets two huge plates of food down on the table. "I wasn't expecting to feed two mouths this late at night so I added some more rice and some spam to make enough."

"Great," Steve looks at his food. "Spam. Again."

"You don't like spam?" Danny looks surprised. "I thought Hawaiians were weaned onto the abomination."

"I used to like it," Steve admits. "Before I found myself on a carrier eating it every day then three times a day in my K rations."

"Yeah that sounds pretty awful," Danny pokes disdainfully at the pink lumps on his plate. "At least Kamekona's got the know how, or should I say the know who to get extra rice when a shipment comes in."

"When did rice get rationed here?" Steve asks before shoving a mouthful of the spammy mix in.

"It's not, but you've got to be there when it arrives or it runs out. The Army's only covering the food of the live in volunteers like me and Kamekona, and the patients. We like to give the other volunteers a meal when they're here, and my daughter usually comes two nights a week."

"Usually?"

"Well, we usually stay in the small bedroom, your room I guess. But we needed to isolate you so I've been bunking down here with the patients and she's not stayed overnight since you washed up. Speaking of which, you gonna tell me what the hell happened?"

"Sorry, Danny. I really can't." Steve shrugs and seems genuinely apologetic. "Loose lips and all that."

"Well it seems like your ship already sank, Babe." 

"I can neither confirm nor deny that."

"Fair enough," Danny has no intention of pressing the issue. "Well if you're gonna be around for a bit, you can meet Grace tomorrow. She comes to read to the men with hand or eye injuries and generally brighten up the place. Those were her flowers you evicted so you could pee in the vase."

"You ex wife doesn't mind her coming here?" Steve sounds surprised.

"She was reluctant at first," Danny admits. "But after she came here a few times on her own, Rachel agreed that the men were not in any worse a condition than someone Grace might see on the street. I think she pictured writhing, wailing burn victims and lots of blood. It's not like that here, the patients are healed enough to leave Tripler but need more rest before returning to the base. We do basic medical stuff but mostly physical therapy. That is my domain." 

"I can't believe you have fifteen cots in my house. I mean I knew Dad was doing this but it's just weird seeing my house full of beds." He looks around the living room, now filled with neat rows of beds, men sitting and lying on the reading and playing cards. "And where exactly is my couch?"

"Uh, we're storing it at Stan, Grace's Stepdad's house. Mansion really. You'll get it back."

"When Japan surrenders," Steve teases. 

"Something like that." Danny pushes his plate away, only some of the food remains, most of it spam and he notices Steve's looks pretty much the same. "I'm gonna turn in and I suggest you do the same. Dr Waincroft's probably been called onto a case up the hill if she isn't back by now. She'll see you in the morning."

"I'm pretty tired, Steve admits, picking up his plate as well as Danny's and heading for the kitchen.

Danny follows him with the glasses. "Grace comes at 10:00 hours if you want to meet her."

"Uh, I'm not really good with kids."

"She's just a short grownup."

"You're a short grownup," Steve grins.

"I've never heard a short joke before, really." Danny deadpans.

"Fair enough," Steve laughs. "I'll probably still be here when she comes so I'll meet her for a few minutes then report to the base after lunch and find out what my orders are."

"If Doctor Waincroft discharges you," Danny reminds him.

"Right. Uh..." Steve hesitates and rubs at the back of his neck. "You want your room back? Technically I'm a patient; I should be down here with the rest of the men."

Danny shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good. I don't really want to climb those stairs again today anyway." He pretends not to see Steve's eyes flick down to his knee and quickly back up again. He suspects he'll be answering some questions of his own tomorrow. 

"Okay then. Night, Danny."

"Night Steve."

Danny makes his way around the back half of the house, turning out unnecessary lights and checking with Kamekona if he needs a hand in the kitchen. He never does but Danny always offers anyway. The detective bids his friend goodnight and readies himself for bed, finally easing himself onto his cot and breathing at the relief it brings to his knee. He lies back and thinks about Grace's visit tomorrow. 

Gas is precious so Stan's Operations Manager, a trusted family friend, brings Grace with him on two of the daily deliveries to town and picks her up the next day. There's no way they could spare the 30 miles of fuel otherwise, even for his precious daughter. He knows he is lucky, so many men are far away from their families at this time and he doesn't find himself resenting the divorce the way he used to. Instead he finds himself grateful for the time they have together.

Danny finds himself wondering how she will like Steve, she'd been very curious about the unconscious man and he's not really sure why it matters, but for some reason he hopes the two will like each other.

* * * 

The next morning, Dr Waincroft meets her recently awakened patient and pronounces him physically fit for duty. She notes that the Commander is in very good condition considering his ordeal and that he is a lucky man. Steve grins, thanking her and standing to fasten his pants. He's glad his mom is a pack rat and that Danny had been able to find some of his clothes in the attic last night. The pants still fit perfectly, even after his long stint away. The T-shirt however strains over his upper arms, telling of the hours of hard swimming he and his team do more days than not. 

Fit and clothed, Steve thinks about his next problem. He needs to get to the base but doesn't have a vehicle at his disposal. Dr Waincroft has use of a jeep but apologised that she can't let him use it as she needs unhindered transport for the patients in the event of an emergency. 

Steve's just walking down the staircase when he hears loud cheering from out the back of the house. He wonders what could be happening but is glad that the patients seem in good spirits. In the short time he's been here, well awake here anyway, Steve finds himself enjoying the atmosphere of the infirmary barracks. He suspects most of it is due to a certain blond cop-come-physical therapist. 

"So, you gonna pass out on us again?" the man in question shoulder bumps Steve in the dining room.

"UDT members don't pass out," Steve scowls. "And no. I'm fighting fit. Just like I said." 

"Good. So I guess you're out of here then?"

"Gotta find some wheels, go to the base as soon as I can today and get myself a new assignment."

"Woah there, Sailor. Don't you think you'd better get yourself made un-MIA first? They probably think you're shark food. What happened to your dog tags anyway?"

Steve frowns. "You know, I don't actually know." He shrugs. "I guess I'll find out this afternoon."

Another cheer, louder this time, reaches the two men and Steve sees most of the patients gathered around the wicker table in the yard.

"What's going on out there?" He asks. "They sound happy."

"That," Danny grins proudly. "Is Grace. She sent me to find you in fact, so you'd better come with me."

Danny leads the way, Steve scrutinising his gait as he leans on the cane. It's not as bad as last night though and he assumes the detective had been truthful in his assessment of an overdone day. 

They reach the table and Steve sees five of the patients seated around it, and one small girl. A deck of cards and an array of different seashells are spread around between them and it doesn't take an intelligence officer to realise what they're doing.

"I hope you're not shafting everyone again, Grace?"

The girl looks up and smiles brightly at them. "No, Danno. They just aren't very good."

The table erupts into laughter again and Steve can see the influence the presence of this child has on the patients. 

"Well, that's why we swapped to seashells." Danny turns to Steve. "She had more candy than any kid on the island and the soldiers should have something for their sweethearts. Oh yeah, Grace? This is Lieutenant Commander McGarrett," Danny announces.

"Hi," she says shyly. "I'm glad you woke up."

One of the men, its hard to tell with everyone in hospital gowns but Steve assumes an enlisted man or junior officer, makes to give up his seat but Steve waves him off gently and crouches beside Grace.

"I hear you read to me while I was sleeping and I wanted to say thank you."

"You're welcome, Sir."

"You can call me Steve if you'd like."

Grace looks over his shoulder to her father and when he nods she smiles. "Okay. You're welcome, Steve. Do you like Sherlock Holmes?"

"Uh. Sure. I don't really have a lot of time for reading these days but my dad and sister used to read them when I was growing up. Why?"

Grace reaches down and pulls a book out of a knapsack. "It's what I was reading to you. I found it in the big bedroom upstairs. I guess it's really yours, I hope you don't mind me reading it."

"Not at all," Steve assures her. "You read Sherlock Holmes by yourself?" He mightn't be great with kids but he knows it’s not an easy read for a child. Mary didn't read them on her own until she was almost thirteen.

Grace shrugs. "Mostly. He's a detective like my dad and I like it. Some of the words are really hard but Danno helps me with those. He knows lots of words."

"Oh he does, does he?" Steve grins and looks over his shoulder. 

"Don't you dare," the detective warns.

Steve mimes zipping his lips and turns back to Grace. "Well maybe you can read me some more while these guys have their sessions today? Only if it's okay with your dad."

"Sure! Is it okay, please, Danno?"

Danny nods. "It is. You listen to Commander... Steve and do what he says. Don't go near the water and what's the other rule?"

"Don't shaft the poor, innocent soldiers out of their candy rations more than twice a month," she recites with a sigh.

"That's my girl."

The men who can walk alone do so, the others are assisted by Danny back into the house and Steve helps a man with a heavy cast on his leg and obvious muscle damage to his right arm. 

Danny catches Steve on his way out the door, his stomach flip flops in a way that he hasn't felt in a long time. "You did great, Babe. Thanks for watching her for me."

"No problem," Steve smiles. "Danno," he grins, walking out the door with the blond uttering protests behind him. He returns to Grace by the table. 

"Okay then, Gracie. Where do you want to sit to read?"

"Um," she considers before pointing to the chairs down by the sand. "There. I like that spot."

Steve picks up her knapsack and carries it over to the Adirondack chairs. "These used to be white," he says as he sits. "I helped my dad paint them every summer when I was a kid. They were the only furniture my mum let us bring when we moved into this brand new house. I finished college the year they finished the house. I've never really lived here but we've had these chairs since I was around your age."

"We had to paint them because Danno wanted to leave them here by the water, but he was worried they'd shine on a clear night," Grace runs her hand over the wooden arm. "They were prettier white. I hate the stupid war."

"Yeah, I do too some days," Steve admits and he worries the mood could quickly become too somber. He brings her attention back to the book and holds it out to her. "So, where are we up to?"

* * * 

"Steve?"

"We're in the kitchen," Grace calls out, giggling.

Danny rounds the wall from the dining area and looks suspiciously at his child and former-patient. "For a UDT man, you have a very eight-year-old-girl-ish voice, Steven." He looks at Grace and frowns some more. "You said 'we'. Where is Steve?"

"Hiding the Spam." Grace says earnestly from her perch on the centre island.

"What? Steven!"

There is a thud from behind the island, somewhere near Grace's swinging feet. "Son of a..."

"Steve!"

"Flea..." the sailor finishes lamely, emerging from his hiding place and Danny peers around the corner just in time to see the kickboard being put back into place. "That should reduce the daily quota by at least half. He will have to ration it a bit until the next supply day."

Danny looks as disapproving as he can, considering how much he hates the stuff. 

"Oh don't looks so stern. Grace can tell Kame where it is if things get dire, can't you, Gracie?"

 

Grace nods soberly. "Thanks, Steve. I really hate Spam. Almost as much as Danno hates pineapples."

"You hate pineapples?" Steve brushes off his hands and helps Grace down from her perch. "You're living in the wrong place then."

"Tell me about it. I blame them personally for luring Stanley away from the civilisation of the East coast to this forest-ridden lump of rock."

"You blame the pineapples?"

"Yes. And the sunshine."

"Oh, then that's totally fair." Steve laughs.

"Are you mocking me?" 

"Lil' bit, yeah."

"Well I may not make to you the offer which I came all the way in here to make."

"Offer?"

"A solution to your transportation woes, if you will," Danny waves his hand in an all-encompassing manner.

"You conjured a time travel-come-teleportation device while we were reading?" Steve mimics the gesture.

"Close. I found a bicycle in the garage. It's red."

"Which you are going to allow me to borrow?"

"Yes."

"To ride a quarter of the way around the island on."

"Yes?" Danny appraises Steve. "You saying you can't make it?"

"I know I can make it. I've been twice as far as that on it but the brakes are shot."

"Huh?"

"It's my f... Fleaking bicycle, Danny. My parents brought it when they moved into the house and it probably hasn't been ridden for close to a decade."

"You do know I know the words you're not saying, right?" Grace pipes up.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that, Monkey," Danny frowns. "Can you fix the brakes?" 

Steve nods. "Probably. I'll need some extra hands though, to keep the tension and hold the wheel steady. Maybe help with oiling the chain. Any suggestions?"

"Me, me!" Grace jumps up and down. "Please can I help Steve fix his bicycle, please?"

Steve chuckles. "You need to get out more, kid."

"Tell me about it," Grace rolls her eyes. "But it isn't really safe."

"No. It isn't," Steve agrees. Steve offers an elbow to Grace and she takes it, letting the man lead her to the side door. "I would greatly appreciate your assistance, Gracie. I'm sure you will be more helpful than your father."

"Hey!"

"You gonna help us, Danno?" Steve challenges, turning and shooting Danny a look. His voice is laced with something Danny can't quite define. Or maybe he doesn't want to.

"I'm gonna make sure you don't get my daughters fingers caught in the chain, yes. I know your type, with the predilection for adrenaline inducing pursuits UDT boys have." He follows the pair.

"If you're good, I'll let you use the chaintug." This time there is no mistaking the tone of Steve's voice. 

Danny totally doesn't walk into the doorframe. 

Really.

 

* * * 

Steve smiles to himself as he pedals along the familiar roads, enjoying the rush of the wind against his face without the usual accompanying salt spray he gets while out at sea. He's no longer listed as "Missing, presumed dead," and has a week of glorious shore leave to boot. He feels comfortably weighed down by a newly issued supply pack and a shiny new set of dog tags has him securely re-identified and he wonders whether or not Danny will demand to check them, just to be absolutely sure he isn't letting an impostor roam free.

He knows he should probably feel more for the team and the ship that was lost in the storm two weeks ago, but they hadn't been together long and Steve honestly hardly knew the men. So he regrets the good lives lost, spares a thought for their loved ones at home, but there's a war on and he can't afford to go getting all sentimental when he's got a job to do.

 

Which is why, he tells himself, he needs to be careful around one Danny Williams and his daughter. Less than a day from consciously meeting them, he can feel himself being curiously drawn to them in a way he neither wants nor can afford at the moment.

Only, he kind of does want it. In a way he really can't allow.

There's something about the former... current but on leave?, Steve hasn't quite worked that one out yet... detective that is inescapably engaging. Whether it's his dedication to the healing of others in the face of his own pain or his utter devotion to his daughter that makes him so, Steve just wants to get to know the man better.

So Steve pedals back up the driveway to the house, technically his house although he's hardly ever lived there, knowing he needs to keep his wits about him or else his more than passing curiosity is going to become problematic. 

"You could at least look a little worn out, just to make the rest of us mere mortals feel a little better about ourselves," Danny sighs dramatically from the porch. 

If Steve didn't know better he'd think Danny had been waiting for him. 

"You know, Detective, I could say the same for your extensive vocabulary. I went to the Naval Academy, I have a Science degree with majors in Engineering and Physics and you can craft words like I balance equations."

"I don't use words more than the next guy," Danny defends.

"Really? Predilection for adrenaline inducing pursuits ring a bell?"

Danny blushes and Steve has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting. "Well, okay you've got me there," Danny admits. "So how long are you back for?"

Steve takes the change in topic and offers the other man a hand out of the low porch chair. He half expects to be waved off but is glad when Danny takes hold and uses Steve's counterweight to pull himself up. 

"I've got leave for a week," Steve answers, following Danny back into the house. "I thought I'd just stay here instead of on base, if you think it won't disrupt the running of things too much."

"Far be it from me to evict a man from his own home," Danny nods. "Of course I'll let you stay."

"You'll let me? Like you own the place now?"

"Only until..."

"Japan surrenders. Yeah yeah, I know," Steve laughs, shaking his head.

"I'll just go and pack away some stuff and be out of your room before you know it," Danny makes to turn towards the stairs.

"Wait, that's not necessary," Steve stops him gently with a hand on his elbow. "I'm only here for a few nights and you really need to be well rested. You work here, I'm just... mooching about really."

"Oh I'm totally putting you to work, Babe. There's all sorts of jobs to be done which I never get around to." Danny grins. "But you're an officer, you should have the privacy deserved of your rank. Will you at least sleep on a cot in your room? Two of is us better than fifteen others."

Steve shakes his head. "Thankyou, really. But no. When you do the work I do, when you eat and sleep and live and sometimes die in the pockets of men of all ranks, you come to see that in the end we all bleed the same, officer or not. And when you spend weeks on end with the same small team, you appreciate the chance to spend time with new faces. They're injured and I don't think I deserve any better than them just because I am an officer."

"Wow."

Steve looks questioning.

"And you think I am all," Danny waves his hand around, "With the words. That was..."

"But you understand?" Steve presses.

"Sure. I get it. I don't necessarily agree, it's your house, you were unconscious yesterday. But I get it." Danny nods. "And I can't say I really wanted to pack up all Grace's stuff. That girl has a lot of junk here for two days a week."

Steve laughs and breathes a sigh of relief. As true as all his reasons for bunking with the patients are, the biggest reason of all, the fact that he just cannot share a room with this man, seems to be far from Danny's mind.

And all things considered, Steve would really needs it to stay that way.

* * * 

Dinner that night is a loud affair. Eaten early so they can sit outside before blackout, Steve and the other sailors try to outcompete the few Army men with Grace-suitable stories. Danny has to call a halt to that when he fears the girl is getting too many ideas and that he will soon find himself the butt of a practical joke. His paranoia is only confirmed when Kamekona's loud lamenting over the missing Spam brings snickers out of the two conspirators and approving looks from the other patients.

After dinner, one of Kame's cousins arrives with a pickup, offering to drive as many men who can fit to the gates of the base so they could attend a USO concert. More than half of the patients take him up on his offer which pleases Danny. He knows from experience that the emotional recovery is as important as the physical. It's just a shame that the military seems to overlook this under the pressure of wartime. Danny and Steve manage to convince Kamekona to go for the ride with his cousin and catch up with his family while the men attend the show, promising to take care of the clean-up. They are surprised when he agrees.

The remaining six patients excuse themselves, returning to the lounge-room come dormitory to write and read letters and continue what appears to be an ongoing mission to improve their poker skills in an attempt to beat the semi-resident card shark, Grace. On learning this, the girl grins with pride, before earnestly wishing them luck.

Once the dishes have been cleared away and washed, Steve stands in the half of the room which houses the writing desk his grandfather had brought over from the mainland. 

"Do you know where I'll find a ruler, Danny?" he asks as he regards the truly chaotic state of the desk. Despite the mess, Danny knows exactly where the ruler should be and produces it from under a pile of neatly written progress reports. 

"Thanks. And a couple of pieces of..."

Danny pulls a spiral notebook from the same pile and rips out some pages. Before Steve can ask he pulls a freshly sharpened pencil from a chipped coffee cup serving as a holder and gives it to him.

"I'm intrigued," the detective admits.

"Good. I want to teach you and Grace a game I learnt at the academy."

"What kind of game?" Danny asks suspiciously. "Grace already fleeces everyone at poker and 500. The only card game safe to play with her is Go Fish because she cheats like a bandit and gets frustrated at having to share the cards."

"Hmm," Steve considers. "Maybe she'd like two-up."

"Which is?"

"A bunch of Australian soldiers taught it to me in... Well I can't say where. We need two coins, preferably quarters because our penny is much lighter than the Australian one and not suitably weighted to spin efficiently. And something to toss them up with. You place your bet on whether there will be two heads, two tails or odds which is one of each."

"No more betting games."

"With seashells?"

"No. It's the principle, Steve. She's too good at it and it doesn't set a good foundation for her."

"You never know, she mightn’t be good at this. It's actually a pretty interesting investigation into statistics and chance and the probability of getting certain... But no. Okay. That's alright I had a different game in mind anyway."

"How long do you need to set it up? Grace and I need to close the curtains."

"That should be enough time. Meet you back here in a quarter of an hour."

When the Williams pair returns to the dining table, Steve is waiting with one piece of paper in the centre of the table, drawn up in an almost painfully neat grid. Some of the squares have tiny neat printing in a code unfamiliar to Danny. The other paper has been cut into small squares, the same size as each grid square, and arranged on the table in neat rows. 

Danny can't help but think that this man is the very definition of squared away.

"This," Steve motions for them to sit, "Is Criss-Crosswords."

"This," Danny sweeps his hand over the obsessively laid out table, "Looks like a Freudian touching disorder."

Steve snickers.

"No. Just, no." Danny mutters. "Animal."

"This looks interesting, Steve." Grace says, innocent of the undercurrent.

"It was invented by a man from New York. He used frequency analysis, uh, studying how often different letters appear in words, to assign value to the letters. The ones we use most often are worth less and the ones we use the least, like Z, are worth more. A guy I was deployed with had a proper board version of it and we all got pretty good.

"This," he indicates the grid page, "Is the game board. The letter tiles, the small squares go on here. You get 7 to start and use them to make words. If your word uses one of the premium squares for Double or Triple Letter Score, or Double or Triple Word Score, you get extra points. Any questions?"

"So it's like a crossword without the clues?" Danny surmises. 

Steve nods. "Exactly. And I think, considering your ridiculous 'predilection' for the words, it should be me and Grace against you."

"Yeah!" Grace fist-pumps and reaches for the paper letter tiles. "Seven to start you say?"

Yes," Steve nods again. 

"Just one suggestion," Danny grins. 

"What?"

"For god's sake, nobody sneeze!"

* * *

Three hours later, a thrilled Grace has been tucked into bed, fresh off her latest victory. Steve and Danny sit in the blackened chairs down by the water.

"Thanks for the game, Steve," Danny says earnestly. "Grace had a lot of fun. I had a lot of fun." 

"Me to," Steve smiles, despite the darkness. 

"And thanks for teaming up with her like that. It was a really thoughtful way to take the pressure off her so she could have fun."

"It seemed like a good idea," Steve shrugs.

"And you said you were no good with kids."

"Well, she's a particularly great kid, Danno."

"Hey, that is her name for me."

"I noticed."

"And Only her name for me," Danny says with warning in his voice.

"Whatever you say, Danno."

* * * 

The next two days pass surprisingly quickly. Steve usually finds himself at a loss for things to do when on leave, more comfortable with the regime and structure of his military life than not. He lets Danny think he's a hard taskmaster with the list of jobs he has for the sailor to do, but Steve's glad for the distraction. 

The trouble is that so far, no amount of weeding, lawn manicuring or shrub trimming has managed to either shift or exhaust thoughts of Danny from his mind. If anything, he finds him more in his thoughts after he realises that he is essentially completing a to do list for the man living in his parents' house. 

By the time he breaks for lunch on the second day, Steve is wishing that he could go for a several mile long swim like he used to when he was here on leave. Whether it is the soothing properties of the repetitive motions or the physical workout, Steve has always found the activity to be the best way to clear or focus his mind. In this case, both. 

By the time the blackout curtains are set and Kamekona has cleared the last of the dinner dishes away, Steve is lying on his cot and wondering if he could sand and refinish the exposed wood ceiling tomorrow without disrupting the household too much. 

By the third day, Steve has finished with Danny's list and is hacking out a noxious vine from down by the water's edge, clearing the gutters and inspecting the roof for leaks, oiling the hinges on the French doors and ensuring the banisters on the upstairs balcony are sturdy. He's more or less out of maintenance jobs to do, short of breaking things himself.

He's standing on the lanai, considering the grass and wondering if he can add another large garden bed so the household can grow some fresh vegetables, when Danny sneaks up behind him. 

"A suitably weighted American equivalent of the Australian penny for your thoughts?" Danny asks, causing Steve's shoulders to stiffen visibly. 

"Mould," Steve answers in a clipped tone.

"Excuse me?"

"The pavers over by that tree," he points to the right side of the yard, "Are prone to mould and efflorescence, the salts in the mortar mix rising to the surface. It's probably also partly due to salt spray from the ocean. It's slippery and dangerous. I should scrub them." He finally turns to Danny. "Do you know where I would find a stiff bristled brush?"

"A toothbrush?" Danny offers.

"No. It's not stiff enough." Steve turns quickly back to glare at the pavers after Danny's snort. "Mature, Daniel."

"Steve," Danny takes him by the upper arm and tugs him towards the wicker outdoor set near the death-trap paving. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Steve sits, so tense that Danny wonders if it is actually possible to sit at attention.

"Crap it’s nothing. You've not stopped for more than a meal and sleep for almost three days and you're as jumpy as a squirrel at a cat convention."

"There aren't any squirrels in Hawaii. Unless you mean the mongoose, people often call that the Hawaiian Squirrel, but it is neither Hawaiian nor a squirrel. It was introduced in 1883 to control rats."

"Steve."

"The Hoary Bat, Lasiurus cinereus semotus, or the Hawaiian named Ōpeʻapeʻa, is the only native mammal, other than the Monk Seal."

"Oh for fuck's sake, McGarrett." Danny looks around the immaculate yard. "Are you bored? Is that the problem? You're supposed to be recreating, I know there's no chance of you resting but you can at least sit back and put up your feet for a few days. You earned it."

Steve shakes his head. "It's not that, Danny. I'm fine. Really."

"No, I think you're bored. Hey, you should come into town with me tonight."

"No, thank you."

"Why not? It will be fun. There is a community concert at Grace's school. They have them every few weeks to keep up morale amongst locals and that sort of thing. It's nothing like one of the USO concerts, the headliners don't bother with us lowly civilians, but it gets people out of the house and together."

Steve shakes his head again.

"Why not?" Danny challenges him.

"Because I don't want to?"

"Too bad. I want to go. My baby girl will be there which means I get to see her an extra time this week without owing my delightful ex-wife a favour. But," he motions to his knee,” Unlike some people, I can't ride a bicycle halfway around an island, by my myself."

"You want to sit in my little red wagon and have me tow you to town?"

"Yes. Or, y'know, I can just get Dr. Waincroft to drop me on her way back up to Tripler. I already asked her, she said it would be fine. We'll work out getting home after."

"You've planned this so thoroughly," Steve teases. "Fine. I will go. But we're taking the wagon, just in case."

* * * 

"Well, that wasn't so bad." Steve offers as they make their way out of the school hall.

"Not so bad? Yeah. I suppose it was not so bad. I mean compared to white noise, it was riveting."

"I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that this was not my idea," Steve picks up the bicycle, which he had insisted on loading into Dr Waincroft's jeep, from where he leaned it against a classroom wall.

"I know."

"It was in fact the idea of, wait; I'm trying to remember... Oh yes. You."

"Shut up. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Sorry," Steve grins and leans in closer. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Oh fuck you, Steve." Danny laughs. "You went a whole two hours without sanding, painting, scrubbing or weeding anything so I'm considering it a win. Whether or not my ears will ever recover is pending."

"Well, you let me know now," Steve mutters.

They had been, as Steve put it, ‘unable to secure transport back to the house’ and Danny insisted he be allowed to ask the next car driving by because Steve gives an impression that he is trying to commandeer the vehicle for Top Secret Government Business. 

“Can you just say ‘get a lift’, McGarrett, seriously, can you not talk like a normal person ever?" Danny poked at the sailors calf with the tip of his cane. Steve offers to let Danny sit on the bike while he pushes it, which results in an argument about not being a damsel in distress but being too stubborn to accept help.

They decide to walk. 

Both of them know that despite his protests otherwise, at some point Danny will end up on the handlebars. It's just not realistic to go almost eight miles by foot, especially with his knee. But for now, they're content to stroll. 

"Grace was happy to see you," Danny says without any hint of surprise. "She's really taken to you."

"We bonded." 

"Over Sherlock Holmes?"

Steve takes his head. "No. Over kicking your ass at Criss-Crosswords."

"Ah. Yeah, well you guys got lucky with Zinc. I mean, we don't all have the government pay for us to go to school and memorise the periodic table on the off chance that someone will invent a game necessitating the use of high point letters."

"You think I got lucky?" Steve smirks.

"You... I... Look Steve, you've got to stop saying things like that, okay?" Danny stops walking. "It's really not a good idea."

"Making jokes is a bad idea? I thought it was funny."

"Making jokes is fine. Me, thinking about you getting lucky? That is a not-good idea."

"Oh."

"Because me thinking about you getting lucky makes me think about me getting lucky and me and you getting lucky. At the same time."

"You want to get lucky with me?" Steve asks, taking a step closer. 

"I... Um, yes?" Danny stands his ground and wonders if he has read Steve wrong if there is any chance he can outrun the man.

"Oh thank God," Steve drops the bicycle, the crash startling Danny. While he's distracted by the sound, he finds himself being herded into a narrow alleyway between a closed music shop and an office. When he finds his back pressed up against the wall he snaps to and fully takes in what is happening.

"Are you going to kiss me or just keep looming there like an admittedly very handsome giraffe?" he challenges. 

"Stop talking, Danno," Steve whispers, bending down and pressing his mouth to Danny's his words caught against Danny’s lips. Danny groans as he's overrun with adrenaline, his pulse is racing and he can feel his carotid artery beating. As if he can sense this, Steve presses impossibly closer and mouths hungrily at the curve of Danny's neck, right where it meets the top of his shoulder. 

"So you..." Danny groans and adjusts his posture to give the taller man better access. "You weren't comfortable sharing a room with me, but you're perfectly fine making out in a dark alley. That makes so much sense, Babe."

"Couldn't." Steve grunts.

"Couldn't what? The Army didn't teach you how to form a sentence? Nouns, verbs, adjectives. Use them please." 

"Couldn't share a room with you, be there while you're sleeping and not be able to... y'know, be there with you. Sleeping."

"Steve, that was the second day we met!"

Steve nods. "Since the second we met, Danno. You were so capable and sure." He rests his forehead on the spot he's been kissing and breathes in all that is Danny. "You think you're worth less because of your knee but I see how strong it makes you. How much you help the patients because they know you understand."

Danny strokes the back of the other man's head and sighs. "Steve, you're killing me here. You... I promised myself after Rachel left me that I wasn't going to get myself into that again and here you are, with your muscles and your tattoos and your goofy face and playing games and reading with my kid and you're stealthily making yourself a part of our lives."

"I didn't mean to?"

"But see, you're leaving in less than a week and where does that leave me? And Grace? I know it doesn't leave us any worse off than any of the other families who have loved ones fighting but I really didn't plan to be worrying about anyone over there."

"I'm sorry." Steve pulls back and gently touches the spot on Danny's neck. "I thought I could let it go, just wait it out until I ship out next week but I'm selfish. I want you to be thinking about me. Not worrying but wondering what I'm up to, looking forward to me coming back."

"You're the reason I was unknowingly sleeping in a bed with a handgun hidden in the frame. What's not to look forward to? Should I be making Grace sleep in a suit of armour in case a grenade goes off in the wardrobe?"

Steve takes a step back and turns to lean against the wall beside Danny. He cups Danny's hand, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to do. I didn't want... I never expected..."

"Again with the lack of sentences," Danny teases gently. "Stop apologizing would be a good start. It's nobody's fault. Well, the stupid war maybe. Can we blame the war?"

Steve nods. 

"Tell me this." Danny looks at Steve's profile and it's as if the other man can sense he's being watched. He turns and they face one another. "Is there anyone else, somewhere else who you feel the same about?"

"Danny!" Steve protests.

"No, really. I've met enough sailors these last few months to understand a little of what it can be like. Being alone out there you find comfort in the arms of a local girl. Or maybe a team mate." He knows it's not spoken of, how forbidden it is, but he's spent too many nights sitting with distressed patients as they bared their souls to him to deny that very real part of the war.

"Danny, I've barely been in a port for over a year and my team changes so often that sometimes we just address each other by rank because we forget names. I haven't even... for more than..." He blushes and hopes the darkness hides it.

"Really? Now you're shy? After you find out how many fillings I have, with your tongue?"

"Danny, I think I'm falling in love with you. I wouldn't admit it, because like you say I am leaving in a week. But a few minutes ago, you referred to yourself and Grace being like all the other people missing loved ones and I hope that refers to me."

Danny whispers. "I think it does."

"Then you're it. If you'll have me. There is no other port. There is no other 'girl'."

"Not a girl, McGarrett," Danny scowls. "You were the one wearing a gown when we met, if any of us is the girl it's you."

"You want to stand here all night making one of us change genders or go home and..."

"And what?"

"And," Steve shrugs sheepishly. "I don't know. Whatever you want. I just want to be with you, as much as I can before I have to leave."

"Whatever I want, hey?" Danny grins and stretches up to nibble at Steve's earlobe. "Well I happen to know of an attic which is full of crap. Which needs sorting through to make way for more linen and medical supplies."

"And we wouldn't want to be remiss in the administration of our duty in the war effort, would we, Danno?" Steve smiles back. He steps away and rights the forgotten bicycle, swinging his leg over and steadying it for Danny. 

"Hop on. It'll be faster than walking."

Danny scowls and uses his considerable arm strength to get himself up and settled on the handlebars. "Still not the girl," he grumbles.


	2. Parts 4-6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Danny's decision to make a life with each other will be challenged by so much more than the war around them.

Much later that night, Danny lies awake in his bed. Which he supposes is technically Steve’s, bed. Despite his earlier joking, sorting the attic is not practical at night as there are no blackout curtains. The few stolen kisses he and Steve shared on the way home continue to turn over in his mind and he finds himself restless. When they had returned to the house, Danny’s knee was bothered enough for him to accept Steve’s help getting up the stairs. He’d leant his weight on the sailor and taken advantage of the chance to keep pressure off it all together. Of course, the bonus opportunity to sneak a goodnight kiss did not go wasted and the two spent a few minutes softly exploring with tongues and gentle nips. 

Steve is similarly restless, lying on his back and staring up into the darkness above him. He hadn’t wanted to share a room with Danny but now he wishes he’d taken the offer. To change his mind now would be suspicious and emit an air of rank privilege that he genuinely does not feel. He briefly considers spending a couple of hours snoring as loudly as he can in the hopes that the other patients will complain, allowing him the chance to offer to take to his room. But that seems a little juvenile. Besides, there’s always the attic tomorrow, although Danny has warned him that they actually need to do some work up there as a large linen order is expected within the week.

Eventually, the two men drift off to sleep, apart from each other but with their thoughts on the same thing. This thing, this chance to explore something real and quite unlike anything Steve has ever experienced before.

* * *  
“Excuse me, Commander. Have you seen Danny this morning?” one of the patients, Ensign Prichard Steve thinks, approaches the dining table and asks Steve just as he’s finishing his breakfast.

Steve shakes his head. “Not yet. Why?”

“It’s nothing. I’m meant to be having a session at 0930h but he’s probably overslept again. He says that the alarm clock in his room is broken. If you ask me though, I think he is not a morning person at all.”

Steve chuckles. “That really wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve seen how much coffee he drinks with breakfast and it’s a good thing he’s here where the is plenty of it instead of on the mainland.”

Steve stands and slaps the ensign on the shoulder cheerfully. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go and poke the sleeping bear and you could read the next chapter of that book I saw on your cot this morning. A Sherlock Holmes if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes, Sir,” the sailor blushes. “Miss Grace talks about them a lot.”

“That girl has all of us wrapped around her little finger, that’s for sure.”

“That she does, Sir,” Prichard agrees.

Steve makes his way up to the landing and stands outside Danny’s door, listening for signs that he is awake and moving about the room. There are none. He knocks gently but there is no answer. Turning the knob, he pushes the door open and is about to offer a loud, teasing comment to rouse the other man but the words die on his lips. The bedding is strewn in a rough radius around the bed and Danny is lying in the middle wearing only his shorts but sweating heavily.

“Danny?” Steve rushes to his side and presses the back of his hand to Danny’s sweaty forehead. 

“’M fine,” Danny groans. “I’ve got a cold. My nose feels like someone stuffed two cobs of corn up it and my head aches but I’ll be alright after a shower and some breakfast.” 

Steve looks unconvinced but leans forward to help Danny out of bed and into the bathroom. “I’ll just…” he looks to the door. “Give you some privacy.”

“You can stay,” Danny says through his stuffed up nose. “If you want to that is.”

Steve nods. “I want to help you.” He reaches past Danny and turns the water on, adjusting the temperature until it is tepid but not too cold. “Let me help you, Danno.” He kneels between Danny and the bathtub and gently eases him out of his shorts, kissing the soft skin of his hip as it becomes exposed. The flesh is warmer than it should be and Danny tastes salty from his feverish night. Despite his injury, Danny is fit and the play of his muscles under his skin cause Steve to choke back a very undignified sound.

“Steve,” Danny moans. “I’m really not up for…”

“Shh.” Steve presses another kiss before leaning back and lifting Danny’s leg so he steps out of his shorts. “I know you’re not.” He stands and cups Danny’s elbow as he steps over the side of the tub and into the stream of water. 

“You’re gonna get wet,” Danny warns him when Steve reaches out and rubs soothing circles over the sick man’s shoulders.

“I don’t think I’ve spent so much time out of water since the war began.”

“Fair enough then,” Danny smiles and tips his head back and lets the water run over his face and through is hair. “So, do you, uh, want to… I mean if you felt like it wasn’t too fast to get in too that would be very okay with me.” Danny would probably be blushing if he weren’t already flushed with a slight fever.

Steve swallows. “You have no idea.” He steps into the shower before either of them can change their minds and pulls Danny tightly to him as the cool water flows over them. 

“You could have taken your clothes off first, you giant dork,” Danny laughs into Steve’s very wet shirt.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I couldn’t have. Not if I wanted to retain a modicum of self control.”

“Modicum?” Danny leans back and looks up at Steve.

“It means a small quanitity of…”

“I know what it means, dumbass,” Danny leans back against Steve. “I just thought I was the one who used the big words, that’s all.”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me?” Steve suggests.

Danny tightens his arms around Steve’s waist and ducks his head to burrow into his warm chest. “Not tonight, honey. I have a headache.”

“God, Danny. When you’re better…”

“I know, Babe. Believe me I know.”

* * *  
By the time he is dried and dressed, Danny is feeling much better and thinks he will be well enough to go about his duties as normal. Steve leaves him to fix his hair and goes down to ask Kamekona if there is any breakfast left. He suspects that even if everything has been packed away, he will prepare something filling and warm for Danny. 

When he’s eaten, Danny heads out into the yard to find Ensign Prichard. He’s behind on his schedule but it seems a couple of the patients have come down with a mild flu too so he will have some shortened sessions. He wonders if Steve will see to setting the blackout curtains that night so he can continue until a little later than usual. He makes a mental note to ask him at lunch.

No longer needing to invent chores to distract himself from thinking about Danny, Steve retrieves the Sherlock Holmes novel from his cot and takes it up to the landing to read in the little area above the stairs. When he was home on leave, just before the war began, he’d discovered the spot had just the right amount of light for reading but also a sense of privacy. He’d been glad to see there were no cots up there. When they’d looked over the house on Steve’s first evening awake, Danny explained that he thought the gaps between the banisters could be dangerous if a patient had a nightmare or became disoriented during the night and Steve found he had to agree.

Steve is deep in the middle of the climax of the novel when he’s interrupted by a heavy pounding at the front door. He calls out loudly, “I’ll get it,” to save any of the patients rushing to the door and jogs down the stairs to answer it. He pulls it open and is shocked to find a woman standing there, her arms full of blankets. Her face is pale except for dark circles under her eyes and she looks like she can barely hold herself up, let alone the load she is carrying.  
Steve steps forward to take whatever the woman is holding from her but before he can say anything, she leans away and frowns at him. 

“Who are you?” she asks suspiciously, flicking her eyes up and down his body. “You don’t look like a patient.”

“I’m Commander McGarrett, this is my family home and I am staying here while I am on leave.”

As suddenly as her suspicion had appeared, it vanishes and the woman stumbles over the threshold. She looks so unsteady that Steve takes the blankets, which he’s now realised are about the size of a child, from her arms before she can protest. “You’d better sit down before you pass out,” he advises, kicking the door closed and walking over to lay the large bundle on his cot. He carefully peels back the layers and feels all the blood rush to his head when he sees what’s inside.

“Kamekona,” he shouts as loudly as he can. 

Within seconds, the man appears from the kitchen. “Stevie, there pilikia?” he asks.

“Get Danny. Now.”

Kamekona hurries from the room the room and Steve crouches beside the cot. 

“Can you hear me, Sweetie? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, Gracie.”

“Steve?” Danny comes through the back doors as quickly as his knee will allow and drops to the floor beside him. He utters a pained sound when he sees what, or rather who, is the cause of the commotion.  
“She’s got a raging fever, Danny. This woman,” Steve indicates the stranger who by now has sunk wearily to sit on the cot beside Steve’s, watching the scene with watery eyes, “Was at the door and…”

Danny tries to stand. “Help me up,” he grunts. 

“What?”

“Up!” Danny grabs hold of Steve’s arm and uses his support to get back on his feet. “Steve, this is Rachel. Grace’s mother.”

Knowing that there’s isn’t really a proper thing to say to the ex-wife of the man you hope to have as your life partner, Steve settles for apologising for his abruptness. “You look like you’ve had a really rough night. You should rest while we take care of Grace.” As he spoke, two of the patients who had come to see what the panic was over, were helping Danny to move Grace to the privacy of the upstairs room.

Rachel shakes her head. “Thank you, Commander. But no. My husband is very ill as well. His lungs were damaged earlier in the war. Whatever this flu is, half the plantation has it. I need to return to care for them.”

“Danny woke up with it this morning, but it seems much milder than what you are describing.”

“He’s always been exposed to lots of sickness in his work as a policeman and I don’t remember him being sick very much at all while we were married. I assume it makes his body better able to handle it,” Rachel shrugs. “I brought Grace here knowing that Danny would be able to focus solely on her and more equipped to help her than we are out at the house. We’re so far from everything and if she worsens….” She sobs into her hands.

“Hey, hey,” Steve crouches in front of her and takes her shaking hands in his. “We’ll look after her, okay? I just need a few details about when she became ill and I want to see you eat something before your driver takes you back, okay?”

* * *  
“Danny?” Steve knocks on the frame of the open bedroom door and waits, not sure of his welcome.

“Oh thank god, Steve. Get in here already and help me get her to drink something.”

Steve enters and sees that Danny is struggling to support Grace’s torso while holding a cup to her mouth. The delirious girl keeps pulling her lips away. Steve slides in on the other side of the bed and wedges the pillow down behind Grace’s back so he can use his arms to gently hold her head still. 

“Grace, honey. You have to drink something, okay? I know it probably hurts to swallow right now but it’s really important. You need to drink three sips for us, okay?”

Grace nods feebly, showing that at least she understands whether or not she wants to comply. She allows Danny to hold the cup to her mouth again and this time, partly because Steve’s gentle pressure won’t allow it, she doesn’t pull away. She takes a few small sips and Steve nods to Danny that that’s enough for now.

“You did great, Monkey,” Danny puts the cup aside and brushes, or more wipes, the wet hair from her forehead. “I’m just gonna be over here by the window, talking with Steve okay?”

“So, what do we do now?” Danny asks in hushed tones.

“Well, Dr. Waincroft is due back later this afternoon,” Steve begins.

“But?”

“I didn’t say but.”

“You face said but, Steven. What are you thinking?”

“Well, she could be hours. I’ve had extensive triage and medical training and if you will allow me to conduct an examination, you will stay with us the entire time of course…”

“Yes, yes that is a good idea. Stay with you, seriously? 1. As if I am leaving her at all right now and 2. If I were to need to leave her, there isn’t anyone I would feel safer leaving her with. You idiot.”

“Um. Thanks?” Steve makes a mental list of what he needs. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

* * *  
Twenty minutes later, Steve and Danny are applying tepid compresses to Grace’s pulse points to try and bring her temperature down. Steve carefully details the time on a little notepad which he places on the bedside table.

“What’s that for?” Danny asks as he dips the washcloth in the bowl. Grace is so warm that the compresses are heating up at an alarming rate. 

“I’m noting the time, her temperature and the dosage of aspirin we just gave her. Ideally I want her temperature to drop by at least half a degree in the next forty minutes or so. I’m writing it because it’s going to be a long day and we don’t want to be guessing when her last dose of something was.”

“I wouldn’t have thought of doing that,” Danny wrings out the cloth and gently wipes Grace’s face.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Danny.” Steve puts the pencil down and turns so he can wrap his arms around Danny’s waist. “She’s got a fever and an acutely infected throat. From what I can see, there are no other signs that would suggest anything other than a serious cold.”

“Other things? Such as?”

“Not going there, Danny.” Steve says firmly. “We’re focussing on what we’ve got, not inventing trouble we don’t have.”

“I just hear stories from the soldiers of some of the things they’ve seen, over there, and… What if Grace’s caught something because she came here to visit me?”

“Hey, look at me, Danny.” Steve turns the other man so he is facing him and braces his hands firmly on his shoulders. “Grace is an amazing kid because you’ve taught her what it means to care about someone other than herself. This war makes it so easy to worry about yourself and what you need and what you can get, but Grace comes here willingly and spends time with patients when she could be playing with her friends.”

“But…”

“I’m not finished, Danny.”

Danny sighs stubbornly and motions for Steve to continue.

“When patients are admitted to hospital, a full screen for scarlet, dengue and yellow fever and malaria are conducted. Even unconscious ones.” He shows Danny the small bruise on the inside of his own elbow where his blood would have been drawn several days prior. “The men here would be clear from those things and you don’t just randomly get sick weeks after without a new exposure. Grace has a cold.”

“Okay,” Danny sighs. “I believe you.”

“There is one thing I wanted to ask you though,” Steve looks at Grace with a slight frown.

“What?”

“Well. If her fever doesn’t improve after two more doses of aspirin, in 6-8 hours, would you permit me to administer quinine? I have it in my pack.”

“But that’s for Malaria, and you just said she wouldn’t have that!” Danny pushes Steve away angrily and turns back to Grace.

“It also reduces fever, Danny. It’s been used by South American tribes people for hundreds and hundreds of years. Before anyone even knew what Malaria was. If the aspirin doesn’t help, the quinine might.”

“Yeah.” Danny deflates and slumps back onto Steve who he knows is standing close behind him. “I trust you. I’m just so worried, Steve.”

“I know, Danno,” Steve sooths as he brings his arms back up around Danny’s waist. “I know.”

* * *  
Steve leans against the doorframe, just watching Danny and Grace. 

“Stop lurking,” Danny says quietly. 

With a soft chuckle, Steve approaches the bed, reaching out his hand to feel Grace’s forehead. 

“The curtains are all closed and Kamekona’s going to send up a plate of food.”

“Thanks.”

“Danny? It’s been almost seven hours.” Steve doesn’t think he really needs to tell Danny this, that they’ve both been counting the passing minutes, hoping for Grace to show a sign of turning for the better.

“Yeah. I know,” Danny sighs heavily. “You know what you’re doing, right? I mean, she’s not a 180lb sailor.”

Steve nods solemnly. “I know the dosage for all weights. I promise, Danny, this is not the first time I’ve given quinine to a child.”

“Okay then,” Danny nods slowly. “What do we need?” 

Steve picks up the glass of water from Grace’s bedside table. “Can you freshen this up while I measure out the dosage? We can mix it into a few sips of water so she gets some hydration at the same time.”

A few minutes later, the task complete, Danny and Steve sit on opposite sides of the bed, each lost in thought. 

“What now?” Danny asks timidly.

“Now, we wait.”

* * *  
Danny looks around the room, startled from his shallow sleep by a thump somewhere in the house. It’s dark and otherwise quiet. His neck is stiff and sore from sleeping on a chair, hunched over to rest his forearms and head on the bed. He looks at Grace, her chest rising and falling regularly is more soothing than Danny can describe. 

“Hey, Danno?” Steve calls out quietly from the landing. “Can you help me for a minute?”

“I’ll be right back, baby,” Danny whispers to Grace, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek before heading out to Steve. He stops when he sees the assortment of canvas and wood in Steve’s arms. 

“That explains the crash.”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve looks back down the staircase sheepishly. “I dropped a leg.” He thrusts the bundle of cot parts at Danny. “Hold this,” he says before scurrying silently down to the bend in the stairs where the wayward leg stopped against the wall. 

“Why are you rearranging furniture in the middle of the night?” Danny asks even as he heads into Grace’s room with the pieces of the cot. He knows full well what Steve’s plan is and he is already preparing his refusal.

“I slept from 2300 until 0300. Now it is your turn.” Steve begins assembling the cot with such focus that Danny almost wishes he had a stopwatch to time the man. It’s clearly not the first time he’s done it. Danny also suspects the speed and focus is an attempt to ward off the impending argument. 

“Let me make this easy for you, Steve. While she is sick, do not expect me to move more than two feet from Grace unless it is to get something she needs or to use the bathroom.”

Steve lifts his foot and slides the now assembled cot along the floor so it is touching the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to get a tape measure? Next.”

Danny scowls. “What if she needs something and I’m so deep asleep that I don’t hear her? She’s my baby, Steve. I’m not sleeping.”

“What if she needs something tomorrow and you’re so exhausted you are of no help whatsoever? You seem to have missed the part where I said it’s your turn. I will be right here,” Steve plonks himself in the chair recently vacated by Danny, “And will make sure Grace gets water and any medication she needs while you sleep. For at least four hours.”

“I don’t know, Steve.”

Steve sighs. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this but he knows that Danny is exhausted and afraid. He stands and pulls Danny into a hug and is heartened when the other man hugs him back, slouching to rest his weight against Steve’s chest. “Did you mean what you said about trying to make a life together after all this is over?” Steve asks. He feels Danny nod against his chest. “That would make us family, Danny. In Hawaii, we call it ohana.”

“Ohana,” Danny whispers, trying the unfamiliar word on his tongue. 

“It is more than family, it is a way of being with the people you make part of your life. You care for one another. Let me be your ohana, Danny. Let me care of you and of Grace tonight.”

He feels Danny nod again and releases him from his hold. Danny looks up, his eyes bright with tears and he slides his hands up Steve’s back so they are behind his shoulders, his arms hooked under Steve’s. “Thankyou,” he whispers, tugging down so Steve bends. Danny presses a gentle kiss to Steve’s mouth, breathing in the comfort the other man is offering. “I don’t know what we would do if you weren’t here.”

Steve returns the kiss for a few moments, placing one final kiss on Danny’s lips before easing back. “Okay, enough of that. You need to sleep and I have work to do.”

Danny holds back the urge to mock salute his partner, instead he nods and gathers the discarded bedding from the floor, plumping and arranging until the cot is somewhat comfortable. He lies down, facing Steve and Grace. Steve settles into the chair and watches until he can see Danny’s eyes start to droop closed. He knows he probably won’t sleep deeply tonight but any rest he can get will make him better for it in the morning. And that, Steve thinks to himself, will be a good thing. He doesn’t think Grace is going to get any better overnight.  
* * *  
Danny wakes up, again roused by a peripheral noise. At first he’s disoriented but he is quickly on his feet when he sees Steve is no longer in the chair and Grace is gone from the bed. 

“Steve,” he shouts, turning on the spot. 

“In here,” comes Steve’s muffled reply and its then that Danny realises the noise that woke him is running water.

He pushes open the bathroom door and is hit with a wall of steam. He can barely see to the other side of the room where Steve is huddled on the edge of the tub, the shower running full blast behind him. Grace is curled up on his lap and he is rocking them back and forth. Steve’s face is covered with a sheen of sweat and his shirt is sticking to him.

“What the hell, Steve?” Danny asks angrily. Grace groans and coughs violently into Steve’s shirt.

“Shut the door, you’re letting the steam out,” Steve snaps. “And you’re scaring Grace.”

“Don’t tell me how to be with my own daughter, Steven,” Danny at least kicks the door closed behind him before moving to crouch in front of Steve for some answers.

“No.” Steve stops him. “Your knee. Just…” he looks around the room. “Sit on the toilet, I’ll pass you Grace, okay?”

Danny complies, anything where he gets to hold his baby girl in his arms is a good plan by him, and Steve gently transfers Grace to him.

“She stirred and it was almost time for more medication so I was giving her a few sips of water when she started to cough,” Steve explains, slumping forward so he can easily watch Grace’s breathing. “I was surprised you didn’t wake instantly but after a few deep breaths, she coughed up a lump which was green. She started wheezing and I just brought her in here as fast as I could.”

As he explains, Steve can see Danny visibly calming and he takes up the rocking motion Steve had been doing moments earlier. 

“She’s breathing easier now,” Steve continues. “The steam will help loosen whatever she’s got in her chest. But I think it’s developing into an infection, Danny.”

At the word infection, Danny stops rocking and lifts his head to look at Steve’s face. His eyes are wide and fearful and he shakes head. “No, no, Steve. It’s a cold. You said it was a cold.”

“This happens sometimes, if whatever is going on in her upper respiratory system works its way further down and into the airways and lungs. I’ve had men with these symptoms after inhaling seawater. Some simple sulphide anti-bacterials will start to clear it up. They’re a standard issue part of my kit. Now that you’ve got her, I will bring in my bag, okay Danno?” He stands and starts to move to the door.

“No, Steve. You don’t understand.” Danny sounds terrified and Steve stops, his hand on the doorknob, and turns back to face him, the steam drifting lazily around him as the air moves through the space.

“What, Danny?”

“Grace is allergic to sulphur, Steve. She can’t have any of that stuff or her airways will swell up and she will stop breathing. She almost died when she was three and had tonsillitis. The doctors gave her an injection and…” He can’t find the words to finish. 

“Oh.” Steve sinks down to the floor, his back against the wall and his mind racing to find another solution. Grace coughs again, her entire body shaking with the force of it. After twenty minutes where Grace barks more than not, they both feel helpless. Steve has medicine that will make Grace sicker than she is and right now, all Danny can do is rub circles on her heaving back while they coax her through each bout with gentle words.

After an hour, the hot water suddenly runs out. Steve squeezes Danny’s hand and leaves the room, shutting the door quickly behind himself to keep the precious steam in. By now, the entire household is roused from Grace’s constant coughing and everyone is concerned. 

“Stevie, what can we do?” Kamekona asks, the patients gathered around him in the main room, not even bothering to try and look busy as they listen to the little girl’s struggle.

“Boil water,” Steve instructs. “As much as you can. Every pot and kettle that we own. Grace has a chest infection but she can’t take any of the antibiotics we can get for her. She needs steam to loosen and clear her chest. Also, Danny will need something to eat. He’s still sick too and he’s exhausted. Not that he will admit it.”

“You don’t look much better, brah,” Kamekona eyes Steve critically. 

“I’m fine. Just, please get some water on and call me when it’s ready so I can get it.”

“Commander, Sir. We will bring the water to you when it’s ready,” one of the patients says. “We want to help Grace.”

Steve nods. “Thank you.” He hurries back up the stairs. 

By the time the sun is starting to rise, Grace’s breathing has eased some but she is still regularly coughing up phlegm of a concerning colour. Her fever is a little lower but not enough that Steve is happy with her progress.

“I just don’t know what else to do, Danny,” he admits. “The hot water system will probably be filled again in an hour or so but I think now that she is breathing a little easier, we should let her try and sleep.”

Danny nods feebly. When the hot water had run out, he’d moved from the toilet to the floor beside the tub so that he could sit under a towel with Grace and a bowl of steaming water. Steve sat beside him and when the heat got too much for Danny, Steve would take over until Danny was cooled enough to go under again. Now, he’s so exhausted that the only thing keeping him going is adrenaline and concern for his daughter. “I think you’re right,” he agrees. He moves to stand but Steve stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Let me, Danno,” he says as he takes Grace from Danny’s arms and stands. “I’ll get her settled on the bed and then come and help you up, okay?”

Danny nods. He’s so far beyond denying he has any chance of getting himself off the floor. His knee is all but locked up and he’s glad for Steve’s thoughtfulness. When Steve returns a couple of minutes later, he is holding Grace’s sweat-soaked cotton nightgown and is carrying two clean sets of t-shirts and shorts.

“I put Grace in one of my undershirts. I hope that’s okay.” 

Danny nods.

“And I brought you these.” He holds up the clean clothes. Kame was coming in with a hot bowl as I was tucking Grace in. He offered to sit with her for a few minutes while we freshen up a little.”

“Steve, I don’t know that that’s a good idea.” Danny protests. 

“Because you don’t want to leave her alone or because you’re worried about what people will think?” Steve beds forward and hooks his forearms under Danny’s underarms so he can help him up.

“Both,” Danny admits. “I’m not ashamed, Steve. But there is such a thing as being discreet.”

“I know, Danny. Believe me. But Kame is family. I’ve known him since I was a kid and I trust him. And besides, I already told him you were stuck on the floor and there is no way you can stand on your own right now. So arms up, Detective and let’s get you out of these clothes.”

After a little awkward balancing and one near fall when Danny ill-advisedly tries to grab hold of the shower curtain, they manage to get themselves into the shower and Steve turns the water on to a refreshing temperature. He uses only a little of the precious hot water. They don’t linger as they efficiently wash away the grime of the night, but with Steve supporting most of Danny’s weight and washing his feet and legs for him so he can hold the wall for balance, it is one of the most intimate five minutes either of them has spent. It’s not the act of scrubbing itself but the care and attention behind it that serves to bring the two men closer together than all the other stolen moments they’ve shared so far. 

Steve turns the water off and kisses Danny softly, not wanting to start anything but just wanting the contact.  
“I don’t think I actually said it the other night, but I love you, Steve.” Danny admits as they climb carefully out of the tub. 

Steve wraps them each in a dry towel and then pulls Danny to him. “I know you do, Danno.” He kisses the wet hair on top of his head. “I love you too. And Grace. She’s going to pull through this. You’ll see.”  
* * *  
“Stevie?” Kamekona knocks softly at the door. 

Steve, who has been resting on the cot while Danny dozes in the chair by Grace, puts a finger to his lips and gets up. He follows Kamekona into the hall and pulls the door to. 

“Is the Major here?” Steve asks hopefully.

Kamekona shakes his head. “Nah, no word of the Doc yet. But Old Mrs Akina from next door, she heard the coughing in the night and brought some ‘awa tea for Grace.” He holds up a jar with a brownish, strong smelling liquid in it. 

“I’ll see what Danny thinks,” Steve takes the brew. “I don’t think he will like the idea but Grace isn’t turning around.”

“Danny still malihini. He hasn’t opened up to the ways of the Islands yet, Steve. He doesn’t trust what he doesn’t know. But haole medicine makes Gracie sicker.”

“I agree, Kamekona. I will try and explain the ‘awa to him. I think it will help.”

“Only use it a manini remember. It is strong. Mrs Akina said to water it down maybe half.”

Steve nods. “We will. Thanks, Kame.”

“No worries, Steve. You look after them, okay? You’ve got ohana now yeah?”

“Yeah I do,” Steve smiles goofily, ducking his head.

“Then you better get back in there,” Kamekona slaps him proudly on the back. “Little Stevie’s all grown up now,” he grins.

Steve slips back into the room and crosses to Danny’s side. “Danny, wake up,” he bends down and whispers in his ear.

Despite how gentle Steve is, Danny startles awake, coughing a little, a reminder that he is not completely well himself. “Grace?” he asks, leaning forward and taking in his sleeping daughter.

“No change for now. I’m sorry to wake you but there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Steve nods towards the door, silently suggesting they step out for the conversation.

Danny sighs and runs his fingers over the sheet covering Grace’s arm. He follows Steve to the landing.

“One of the neighour women brought some ‘awa leaf tea for Grace. She heard her coughing through the night.”

“’Awa leaf? Isn’t that the stuff that some of the local kids use when they can’t get black market alcohol?”

Steve nods. “It is. But that’s not the traditional use for it. It’s been used for centuries as a relaxant, for insomnia, in ceremonies and to treat fever and respiratory illness. Danny, I know it’s not what you know and I kind of expected you to be reluctant about using traditional medicine, but I trust it and I think we should try it.”

Danny nods. “Do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he says adamantly. “We’ve tried everything else we can and she isn’t getting worse but she isn’t getting better either. It doesn’t have any side effects does it?”

“Honestly, long term use can be a bit dicey but for a few days there shouldn’t be any.”

“Then let’s do it now.” Danny leads the way back to Grace’s bedside, holding up the shot glass they had been using to mix the quinine powder. “How much at once?”

“We’ll half fill that with the tea then top it up with water. And Danny? There’s one more thing.” Steve wonders if he is going to be pushing his luck.

“You want me to have some too.”

Steve blinks, surprised. “Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

Danny laughs. “I might have only met you a week ago, but I know you, Steve. But I’ll do it. If you think it will help me get better to I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Steve wraps his arms around Danny’s back and pulls him close. “Would it be condescending to say that I am proud of how open minded you are being about this?”

Danny nods before leaning up to press a kiss to Steve’s warm lips. “Yes. But if Grace weren’t so sick I’d be protesting against it so strongly they’d hear me in California so I can’t really hold it against you.” 

“Fair enough,” Steve holds the jar up, wrinkling his nose against the strange smell. 

“Enticing, ain’t it?” Danny mirrors Steve’s face with his own. “Better get this over with then I guess.”

Steve follows his partner into the bathroom and he’s relieved about how well that all just went. He just hopes it’s not too little too late for Grace and that she doesn’t end up with permanent damage to her lungs. If she doesn’t start to turn around in the next few hours, Steve might have to resort to more extreme measures.

* * * 

By noon, Steve can’t take it any longer. Dr Waincroft has been and gone, impressed with the level of care Grace had received in the night and convinced that Steve and Danny could continue to provide care as well as any hospital right now. There really wasn’t anything more they could be doing for her and certainly wouldn’t have the total devotion to a single patient that she had at the house. 

Steve hears Grace cough again and decides that he can’t sit around watching her struggle for breath while she coughs up sickly coloured gunk. The natural improvement that often comes with morning has faded and Grace is as bad as she was during the night. He can’t bear watching Danny struggle to keep it together, the both of them so helpless. 

Not when he can help. Not when there is one more thing they can try. Steve just needs to decide how far into this thing with Danny he is realistically going to go. He loves Danny, and Grace. Of this he is sure. But does he love them enough to risk everything that he has worked for? 

“Shhh, Grace try and take a deep breath, babe,” Danny croons as he rocks his daughter back and forth. “Steve?” he looks up with tired, pleading eyes. “I think we should get her back into the bathroom.”

And just like this, his decision is made.

Steve helps Danny move Grace into the bathroom. “Why don’t you let her lie on the floor?” he suggests. “The cool tiles will probably be more efficient than cold washers.”

Danny nods reluctantly and arranges her with care, folding a towel under her head. Steve turns the water on full and hot and twists another towel into a long snake. He wedges it along the base of the door, preventing any steam from escaping.

“Danny, I need to talk to you about something.”

Danny looks up from stroking Grace’s cheek and frowns. “That’s the worst opening line, Steve. Nothing good ever comes after a conversation starts like that.”

“Maybe. I’m going to ask you to let me do something but I need you to trust me, without making me tell you my plans.”

“I take it back, that’s that would have been a worse way to start the conversation.”

“For god’s sake, Danny. Will you stop making jokes for just one minute?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you prefer I be more morbid and sober while I sit here, watching my daughter die on your fucking bathroom floor because her immune system is fucking shit and her allergies mean the only medicine we can give her will kill her faster than the infection.” Danny’s voice cracks and he thumps the side of the tub, his back heaving as he struggles to control himself.

He looks at the floor and sighs. “Look, this isn’t what you signed on for, Steve. If you want to leave, I won’t try and stop you.” As soon as he says the words, he regrets them and he hopes Steve knows he doesn’t mean it. He would try and stop him, with everything he can throw at the sailor.

“It isn’t all we can give her,” Steve says quietly, the complete opposite of Danny’s emotion filled release of tension.

Danny stops. “What do you mean?”

“There is a new drug that they’ve only just begun in large-scale production. I’ve seen it used in the field, it’s increasing survival rates for the wounded by huge numbers, but I don’t know too much about it other than the scuttlebutt I’ve heard from other guys.”

“Penicillin,” Danny nods. “Some of the guys here had it in the field and then in the hospital. But it isn’t publically available yet. It’s strictly for military use.”

“Which is why I didn’t want you asking questions, Danny. I didn’t want you involved in what I’m thinking about doing.”

“You’re going to try to steal some penicillin? For Grace?”

Steve nods. “Yes. I’ve been thinking for hours and I believe I have a plan which will work.”

“And if you’re caught, you will be court-martialed.”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

“Dishonorable discharge at best. Probably some confinement,” Steve shrugs, trying to maintain a façade of calm. “It’s a time of war so the penalties for everything change. But Danny, I won’t get caught. I have a plan.”

“That doesn’t instill nearly as much confidence as you think it does, Steve.” Danny sighs and eases onto the floor beside Grace, using the tub to support himself. 

“Please don’t try and stop me, Danny,” Steve implores. “We have tried everything else. I can’t sit around. I can’t watch the two of you go through this when I can help.” 

“If I agreed, and I’m not saying I do, but if I did, what can I do to help?”

“Deny this conversation ever took place.”

“Steve,” Danny growls. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. You could be charged with being an accessory. You’d lose your badge.” Steve crouches next to Grace and swallows. “But also, I need you to let me draw some of her blood.”

* * *  
Danny paces anxiously. He’s exhausted and frankly terrified. As if his worry for Grace isn’t enough, he’s now more than rationally concerned for the insane man who suddenly appeared in their lives like the crazed hero from an epic poem. After expertly drawing some of Grace’s blood (and Danny really does not want to think about the missions Steve has been on where they are trained for that sort of thing), Steve disappeared with a kiss for each of them and a promise to return. He has been gone for over six hours and Danny’s starting to think that the entire plan, which wasn’t that airtight to begin with, has fallen apart. “I pretend the blood is mine then convince them to give me a few days worth of penicillin,” is not exactly solid.

*

Steve waits patiently. He’s exhausted and beginning to cramp up after taking refuge in a small cleaning closet. The plan to switch his own blood for Grace’s had gone well at first, the nurse had been easily enough distracted when Steve sneezed, flailing his un-jabbed arm out and knocking over a tray of sterile instruments. He’d quickly switched the tubes while she scrambled to pick everything up. It had been so easy he almost felt bad for her.

The plan had fallen apart because Steve had overlooked one vital fact. Grace is a girl. He is not. The assumption that the blood was his meant that a little difference in hemoglobin chemistry became a big problem. When the blood cultures had come back with a concerningly low level of hemoglobin, the doctor in charge of his case had started him on the antibiotics as hoped (and Steve forced down bile at the thought that he was needlessly taking something so precious for Grace and other sailors), but had also ordered a barrage of other tests to rule out low iron levels or poor kidney function. Steve had insisted that it wasn’t necessary but the doctor had literally ordered him to “Lie the hell down, Commander McGarrett,” and rest.

Steve had waited for two hours before he cracked, pulled the IV out of his hand (‘My my, isn’t this becoming quite the habit’ a very Danny-like voice sounded in his head) and made a run for it. He’d narrowly missed being spotted by his nurse by ducking into the supply closet (sadly not the dispensary), and then realized that the alarm had been sounded for his disappearance. The hospital staff, believing to have a sick and possibly delirious man wandering around the hospital, had set all spare hands to searching for him. It seems it is a light day in the ward. Just his damn luck.

So he finds himself stuck, waiting for what he’s not quite sure. A window of opportunity to make his escape would be good. A diversion would be excellent. He wonders if it’s too much to hope that something will explode on the street outside and draw all the personnel away. If only he’d had the foresight to set something up on the way in. Danny would just love that.

A while later, Steve realizes that it has been a few minutes since he heard anyone go past the door. He pushes it open tentatively and peers out. The hallway is deserted so he creeps out, stretching his back and arm muscles with relief. He takes a few steps down the hallway before remembering the exit is in the other direction. He turns. And runs into his nurse.

“Half the hospital has been looking for you, Commander,” she admonishes.

“I, uh, wanted to use the bathroom,” Steve stammers nervously. He adds a realistic cough for good measure. “I got lost and couldn’t find my way back to my room.”

The nurse looks skeptical. “I’m sure you did. Well the good news for you, and blessedly me too because it means I’m no longer responsible for you, is that the tests came back clear. The doctor is satisfied that your chest infection is the worst of it and I’m on my way to the dispensary to get you some penicillin to take with you tomorrow.”

“I’m still shipping out on time?” Steve asks hopefully, although it’s not at all his deployment that concerns him. 

The nurse nods. “Yes. Your CO at the base is very concerned that you ship out as scheduled. You will be able to continue receiving treatment aboard your transport ship and the doctor is happy with that. Now, if you think you can find your room,” she says slightly sarcastically, “It’s that third one on the left there, I will return with your prescription.”

She steps neatly around Steve and continues down the hallway. She wonders how sick the commander must be to become so lost only doors from his own room. The Navy works these men entirely too hard for their good health. She hopes that the sailor has a better sense of direction in the open sea. Maybe he just can’t find his way around without stars and a compass.

* * *  
Steve jumps out of the jeep and slaps the Ensign on the back. “Thanks for the ride, buddy.” 

He runs up the drive and into the dark house, shouting for Danny and not stopping to close the front door behind him. “Danny, I got it.” He sprints up the stairs, taking them three at a time, slamming into the turn in the middle and crawling the rest of the way up as fast as he can. 

He reaches the door to his room and pauses, afraid of what he is going to see inside. His single minded focus for the last few hours has had him running on adrenaline and worry and now that he is back, he fears he is too late.

“Steve?” Danny opens the door and grabs Steve’s forearm. He drags him into the room and into a fierce embrace, only to push him back roughly a few moments later. “Where the hell have you been, huh? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Gone for almost half the day without a word, which at the best of times is not good but when I know you’ve gone off on a cockamamie mission that could get you thrown into the brig…”

“Danny!” Steve stops him with a hand over his mouth. “I got the penicillin.” He looks towards the bed where Grace is sleeping fitfully.

“You got it?”

Steve nods. “I have enough to last someone Grace’s size for almost a full course.”

Danny’s angry features melt into a wide grin and he pulls the insane sailor back to him again. “Oh my god, Steve. I don’t know what we would have done if you’d been caught.”

“Well I wasn’t,” Steve pats him reassuringly on the back. “Now, let’s give her the first dose. It should start to make a difference by morning.”

* * *  
Kamekona stands in the doorway to the little upstairs room, taking in the scene within. It’s not one he ever expected to see Steve McGarrett, determined to the core and devoted to the service, being a part of. He’s known the man since he was only a boy, seen him excel at sports and heard the stories of girls and pranks. He watched him join the service the day he was able and saw the willingness to serve turn into almost a single minded obsession after the death of his grandfather on that fateful day which dragged his home into the war.

But now, Kamekona thinks to himself, Steve looks happy. Despite being exhausted and worried from the events of the last 48 hours, or maybe because of them, he looks like he has found some peace. Figuratively and literally, if the way his arms and fingers are entangled with Danny’s as they sleep slumped over the edge of Grace’s bed is any indication.

He He hates to wake them but he knows that the Navy waits for no man.  
“Stevie?” Kamekona whispers and gently shakes his friend’s shoulder. Steve lifts his head from where it’s been resting on the bed, a crease running down his left cheek from a fold in the comforter.

“Kame.” Steve inhales. “It’s time?”

The Hawaiian nods. “Yeah. You got an hour until your transport arrives.”

“Thanks.”

Kamekona nods and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“Danny?” Steve prods at him. 

“I’m awake,” he mumbles. “If I refuse to get up, do you have to stay?”

Steve chuckles softly. “If only it worked that way, Danno.”

Danny looks up, his eyes bleary and red rimmed. “What’d I tell you about calling me that?” He can’t really work up the energy to make his scowl look at all threatening.

“You love it.” Steve stands and stretches. “Danny, I can’t say how long I will be gone for. Or if I will even make...”  
“Hey,” Danny snaps. “None of that talk, you hear me?”

“But Danny, realistically…”

“No, Steve. Not thinking about this realistically. I mean, I know that you getting hurt or worse out there is a very real possibility, I see the results of your work every day, Steve. But I will be thinking about this with hope and looking forward to the end of this godforsaken war. That I will do. We’re not going to sit around wringing our hands when there’s work to be done.”

“Aww,” Steve pouts, trying to lighten the mood again, because he’s been dreading this goodbye so much. “So you won’t be tying a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree for me, Danno?”

“I’d have to plant one first,” Danny snorts. “Maybe a palm tree.”

“Promise?” Steve nuzzles Danny’s hair.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the detective says mysteriously.

 

Steve presses a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I’m gonna go wash up. We should have a big supply of hot water now Grace has stopped coughing.”

“Thanks to you, Babe,” Danny scrubs at his eyes. Because he’s tired. Really.

Steve shrugs. “It’s nothing. If you could’ve, you’d have done the same.”

“It wasn’t nothing at all,” Danny shakes his head. “But you knew the risks, I’m not going to keep reminding you.” He stands and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve can feel the difference between this embrace and the one they shared last night. The weight of Danny’s fear for his daughter was tangible and now, since her fever broke in the small hours of the morning, he feels light and more like the Danny he first met in this room a week ago.

“What I will keep doing,” Danny continues, “Is keep reminding you how grateful I am that you washed up into our lives. Like Guardian seaweed.”

“Seaweed?” Steve chuckes.

“I don’t know what sea creatures live around this volcanic rock, other than the dolphins Grace loves, and you don’t really seem like the dolphiny type.”

“There’s the liloholoikauaua,” Steve suggests.

“The lilo what now?”

“Hawaiian monk seal. They’re agile in the water and love to dive.”

“Oh they do, do they,” Danny presses teasing kisses to Steve’s jawline.

“Yes. They are also very cute.”

“And modest.”

“Yup.”

Danny shakes his head and pushes Steve towards the bathroom. “You’d better get yourself ship shape, Sailor.”

“Yeah?” Steve grabs hold of Danny’s shirt collar and drags him with him. “Maybe you’d better supervise me in there.” He bends down and whispers in his partner’s ear. “Does that sound like something you’re interested in?”

Danny shoots a look over his shoulder to Grace, sleeping peacefully and fever free. “Yeah,” he nods, his voice thick and heavy. “Yeah, it does.”

* * *  
Steve looks out the window of his transport jeep, watching the familiar Honolulu sights slide past in the dim evening light. It’s been almost two years since he was last here, since his ship sank off the coast and he found himself falling in love with an opinionated detective from New Jersey. Two years of letters and postcards and drawings from Grace, addressed to ‘Uncle Steve’ and signed ‘Love Gracie’. Every one of them is folded carefully in between his shirts in his duffel bag. Steve wrote back whenever he could, often sending a few weeks worth of mail at the same time.  
He only hopes that the sentiments Danny shared with him in their last moments together haven’t changed in the long time apart. That the stress of wartime hasn’t changed his mind about the two of them being together, because if Danny and Grace will have him, Steve plans to stick around. He’s been assigned to liaise between the navy and HPD in returning the islands to civilian control.  
Lost in his daydreaming, Steve doesn’t notice that the jeep is turning into his street until the Petty officer driving looks at him and smiles. “You got family waiting for you, Sir?” he asks politely. 

“I sure hope so,” Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times, suddenly finding it dry. His stomach is doing flip-flops like he hasn’t felt since high school. It’s so different to the nervous energy before a mission. This he has no control over at all. He’d had word sent to Danny that he was being transferred back and would be arriving tonight but there had been no time to wait for a reply.

He thanks the driver and slings his duffel over his shoulder, striding up the path and around the bend to the front gate proper. He stops and swallows hard at the sight that greets him. Grace and Danny stand by the open gate and she is holding a small palm tree in a pot. There’s a big, gaudy, bright yellow ribbon tied around the thin stem.

Steve doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry but at this point, he doesn’t really care.

“Steve!” Grace shrieks, dropping the pot and sprinting towards him, launching herself into his arms. He catches her and spins her in the air. Danny follows at a more sedate pace. 

“Hey,” Danny grins, adding his arms to the two pairs already wrapped around each other. “Welcome home, Sailor.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks hopefully, so much meaning in one simple word.

Danny nods. “Yeah, Steve.” 

“Steve, come on, we have dinner all cooked and presents for you and Mommy said I can stay for three whole days. I get to miss school,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Oh, and we painted the chairs white again!”

Steve laughs at her enthusiasm and brushes tears out of his eyes. “You did?”

“Yup,” Danny nods. “The very day that they declared peace, we were out there with paint and brushes, returning them to their rightful colour.”

The trio make their way up the path to the house, Grace clinging to Steve like the monkey that she is and chattering excitedly about their plans, Danny’s arm wrapped around Steve’s waist like they’d not spent any time apart at all.

The palm lays forgotten on the grass by the gate, the ribbon blowing gently in the cool Hawaiian breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to post the prompt until the end because it gives plot away. Thanks to the http://h50-harlequin.livejournal.com/ challenge. It was lots of fun!
> 
> It was:  
> 32\. Homefront Hero
> 
> Dashing and valiantly wounded, Captain John Gallows could have stepped straight out of an army recruitment poster. Leanne Sample can't help being impressed—although the lovely Red Cross nurse tries to hide it. She knows better than to get attached to the daring captain who is only home to heal and help rally support for the war's final push. As soon as he's well enough, he'll rush back to Europe, back to war—and far away from South Carolina and Leanne. But when an epidemic strikes close to home, John comes to realize what it truly means to be a hero—Leanne's hero.


End file.
